The Case of the Overdue Otterhound

by B R Snow

  “How pure was the sample you had tested?” Rooster said.

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Billows said, grinning. “We might be looking at one of the purest veins ever discovered.”

  “He’s talking about digging up some of our property?” Cooter said.

  “He’s talking about digging up all of it,” Rooster said.

  “But I live here,” Cooter said. “You can’t do that.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky, and your buddies here will bail you out. But it’s probably going to cost them millions to do it,” Billows said. “Sorry, folks. But it’s time to play a little corporate hardball.”

  “Millions?” Cooter said, his eyes wide. “Are you talking about millions of dollars?”

  “Well, I’m sure you’d rather be dealing in squirrel skins,” Billows said, laughing. “But I doubt if I could get that past the lawyers.” Then he looked at my hat again and shook his head. “That thing just cracks me up.”

  A strange look came over Cooter’s face, and his demeanor changed immediately.

  “If you’re talking about millions of dollars, I guess that changes things,” Cooter said, nodding. “I can always buy another place to live.”

  “Cooter?” I whispered.

  “I know what I’m doing, Suzy,” Cooter said, staring at me. “And it’s not your property yet.”

  “No, you’re right, it’s not,” I said, studying his expression.

  “Well, if you’re looking for a place to start digging,” Cooter said, pointing at the cave behind us. “You’re going to want to start in there. Follow me.”

  Billows switched his flashlight on and stepped past us with an evil grin as he followed Cooter’s path. Rooster and I trailed close behind.

  “The kid is selling out for big money?” Rooster whispered.

  “It certainly looks that way,” I said, then my neurons flared. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” Rooster said, then shook his head and stared at me. “No. No way. You think so?”

  “I do,” I said, stepping into a larger cave.

  Cooter was talking and pointing out different sections of the cave with the beam from his flashlight. Billows was listening closely and nodding. Rooster and I followed them to the other side of the cave and onto the pathway that soon formed a Y. Cooter motioned behind his back for us to stay away as he took a few steps forward.

  “The path on the right doesn’t go very far,” Cooter said. “But you won’t believe what you see on this side.”

  “We need to stop him,” Rooster whispered.

  “Absolutely,” I said, then called out. “Cooter, why don’t you show Mr. Billows the path on the right?”

  “I know what I’m doing, Suzy,” Cooter said, then caught himself. He thought for a moment then nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Come on, Mr. Billows. Let me show you the other path.”

  “No, it’s quite alright, Jethro. I’ve got this.” Then he glanced at Rooster and me over his shoulder. “And you two can just keep your nose out of it,” Billows said, taking a step down the path on the left. “You’ve already caused enough problems as it-Aaaaaaaahh!”

  I silently counted as we waited for the splash. When it finally came, it was faint but echoed softly throughout the cave.

  “How far did you get?” I said to Rooster.

  “Five Mississippi.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Rooster said, staring at Cooter who was standing at the edge of the hole peering down into the darkness.

  “You mean about Cooter?”

  “Yeah,” Rooster said. “Technically, he sort of killed the guy.”

  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” I said, frowning. “But it’s not like he pushed him.”

  “No, he didn’t do that,” Rooster said. “And he did try to talk him out of it.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “But still.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I whispered. “I’m gonna need a few minutes to process this.”

  “I’m gonna need another glass of Jessie’s shine,” Rooster said, shaking his head.

  “I think I might join you,” I said. “Hey, Cooter, you about ready to head back to the cabin?”

  “Yeah, we probably should get going,” he said, taking a final look down the hole before walking toward us. “How much trouble am I in?”

  “I don’t know, Cooter,” I said. “I really don’t know.”

  We followed Cooter back the way we came in, and just as we were about to reach the entrance, we heard the sound of someone coming into the cave. I stared in disbelief when Chief Abrams got to his feet and brushed the snow off.

  “Wow,” I said, stunned. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “If you answered your phone once in a while you’d know,” Chief Abrams said, glaring at me.

  “A little snarky, Chief. There’s no reception out here,” I said. “Why were you trying to call me?”

  “Because I’ve been following Billows all morning. And as soon as I figured out where he was going, I thought I’d give you a heads up. When I got here, I saw him heading this way and followed him. Where is he?” the Chief said, glancing around.

  “Uh, he fell down,” I said, glancing at Rooster.

  “So, he’s hurt and lying down somewhere back in there?” the Chief said, staring into the distance.

  “Actually, he fell down,” Rooster said, pointing at the ground.

  “Really?” the Chief said. “How far down?”

  “Five Mississippi,” Rooster and I said in unison.

  The Chief frowned and glanced back and forth at us. Then his expression turned quizzical.

  “So, you’re telling me Billows had an accident?”

  “Well, I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose,” I said, glancing at Rooster.

  “No, you’re right about that,” Rooster said. “He definitely didn’t jump or anything like that.”

  “And he certainly wasn’t pushed,” I said, staring down at the floor. “And Cooter tried to warn him.”

  “I did,” Cooter said, vigorously giving us his best bobblehead. “But he didn’t listen.”

  “No, he didn’t,” I said, having a hard time making eye contact with Chief Abrams.

  The Chief studied our faces, and I’m sure we looked like three schoolkids caught doing the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then he nodded and kept whatever was going through his head to himself.

  “Okay, so Billows had an accident and did a header down a deep hole,” he said. “Is there any chance he’s still alive?”

  “I’m gonna go with no,” I said after a long pause.

  “Yeah, me too,” Rooster said. “That was an awfully long way to fall.”

  “Five Mississippi,” I said, shrugging as I flashed the Chief a tentative smile.

  “Okay,” the Chief said, nodding. “Let’s get out of here. I need to get a rescue crew out here to recover his body.”

  “Any chance I can go with you?” Rooster said.

  “You want to go down that hole?” the Chief said, staring at Rooster.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind taking a look,” Rooster said.

  “You’re even weirder than she is,” the Chief said, nodding at me as he turned and crawled back outside through the small opening.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” Cooter said after the Chief had disappeared from sight.

  “Don’t mention it,” Rooster said, staring hard at Cooter. “To anybody.”

  Chapter 24

  Cooter and Rooster headed back to the cabin while I took Chief Abrams to the spot Very had shown me where his phone would work. As soon as his call went through, I waved and trudged back toward the cabin. I was freezing, but my mind was racing with other thoughts, and the cold was way down my list of concerns. As far as the fate of Herman Billows was concerned, I was again stunned by how quickly a life can end. And I was also conflicted about Cooter’s actions as well as our complicity in covering f
or him. I decided Cooter had simply panicked when he realized that his beloved homeland might soon become an enormous quarry, overrun with earthmoving equipment, and his hunting and fishing areas destroyed.

  And the fact that Billows had made fun of my hat probably hadn’t helped.

  Rooster and I needed to discuss the ramifications of our providing cover for a simple-minded but gentle soul whose primary desire was to be left alone to live a solitary life. I assumed Cooter’s battle on that front wasn’t over since there was a good chance that Billow’s company would send another emissary making an offer Jessie Friendly might have a hard time turning down. And while my mother and Rooster would initially put up some degree of resistance, I was certain they wouldn’t participate in a bidding war for the property. And as far as I was concerned, I had less interest in fighting a corporate conglomerate for ownership of the land than I did in following Rooster down a five Mississippi hole in the ground.

  As I neared the cabin, my thoughts returned to Skitch Friendly’s death, and I found myself doing a 180 reversal and somehow managed to convince myself that no one in the family had been responsible. I could make a case that Jessie and Very, given their speedy decision to basically take the money and run, both had enough of a motive. But it was impossible to miss the sad reverence in their eyes and voices every time his name came up, and I was no longer even sure that Jessie knew anything about her husband’s affair. And I was left with the idea that fate had dealt the hand they were playing, and the two women were merely taking advantage of an opportunity to make their lives easier and begin building fresh memories.

  In short, I was once again in agreement with the official story that Skitch Friendly’s death had been an accident. I guess the Chief and my mom are right: Sometimes the facts just speak for themselves.

  I approached the cabin and noticed Chef Claire sitting on the front porch. I climbed the steps and sat down next to her.

  “What are you doing sitting out here in the cold?”

  “Trying to sober up,” Chef Claire said, staring off into the distance. “I’m hammered.”

  “How many glasses did you have?”

  “Just two. That stuff is brutal,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Maybe she’ll give you the recipe,” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s all I need,” she said, exhaling loudly.

  “Did you hear what happened?”

  “I did,” Chef Claire said. “What a way to go, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Caves are dangerous places,” she said, slurring her words. “Just an accident waiting to happen.”

  “Yeah, an accident,” I whispered, then stood up. “I’m freezing. You coming?”

  “I’ll be in soon.”

  I headed inside and removed my coat and boots and both hats. Rooster was sitting on a couch talking with Jessie. I sat down across from them.

  “Where’s Very and Cooter?”

  “Cooter’s upset about what happened, and Very went to his room to see if she can calm him down,” Jessie said. “What a horrible thing to see. That poor boy.” She looked around and shrugged. “And I can’t imagine it was much better for you two.”

  “Yeah, it was quite a shock,” Rooster said, glancing at me.

  “I could have done without it,” I said.

  Very entered the room and spotted me immediately.

  “Oh, good, you’re back,” she said. “Cooter would like to have a talk with you. His room is the third door on the left.”

  “Sure,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Try not to take too long,” Rooster said. “We need to get going soon. We don’t want Chef Claire making that trip back to the truck in the dark.”

  “I won’t be long,” I said, heading down the hall. I knocked softly on the door then slowly opened it. “You wanted to speak with me, Cooter?”

  “Yeah, thanks for coming,” he said, sitting up on the made bed. “How do you like my room?”

  I glanced around at the bizarre collection of animal skins, children’s toys, and dozens of comic books scattered on the bed and floor. It seemed more appropriate for an eight-year-old boy, but Cooter seemed proud of it, and I gave him a big smile.

  “It’s very nice,” I said. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I’m scared, Suzy,” he said, tearing up.

  “It’ll be okay, Cooter.”

  “Are you and Rooster gonna tell anybody?”

  “What would we tell them?”

  “Well, the truth for one,” he said, grabbing and twisting the covers with both hands.

  “The truth?” I said, rubbing my forehead.

  Okay, Suzy. Decision time.

  I took some time to organize my thoughts, swallowed hard, then started talking.

  “As I remember it, Cooter, the truth is that you were showing Billows the cave, led him to where the path forms the Y, and then specifically asked him to take a look at the one on the right. But I do believe that, at first, you were thinking about sending him down the path on the left. Then something inside you, probably something that comes from the way your mom and dad raised you to be a good person, you changed your mind and told him not to do that. The truth, as I see it, is that you thought about doing a bad thing, but you actually ended up doing the right thing.”

  “Do you really think so?” he said with a wide-eyed stare.

  Man, the guy was apparently determined to make the conversation as tough as possible.

  I scratched the back of my head and looked around the room. My eyes landed on the comic books, and I decided to try a different approach.

  “You know how superheroes like Spiderman and Captain America sometimes do bad things?”

  “Sure,” Cooter said. “But only when they have to do something like save the planet.”

  “Exactly,” I said, waiting for my neurons to get their act together. “And I’m sure those superheroes often think about doing even worse stuff and then change their mind.”

  “They do,” Cooter said, nodding. “Iron Man just did that in the latest issue.”

  “Well, there you go,” I said, smiling. “And like those superheroes, you saw Mr. Billows as a threat to your…”

  “Planet?”

  “Sure, sure. That’s probably a good word for it,” I said. “He was about to disrupt everything you know and love, and you got scared and turned protective. And while you wanted to do something to hurt him, eventually you decided you were better than that, and your own superhero qualities took over. Because that’s what superheroes do.”

  “Yeah, they do, don’t they?” Cooter said, beaming. “I think I’m starting to feel better.”

  “Good.”

  “Boy, I don’t get scared too often,” Cooter said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

  “That’s because you’re a brave guy,” I said. “Living way out here the way you do.”

  “That’s the second time I’ve been scared this month,” Cooter said. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

  “What scared you the last time?”

  “It was when that guy showed up, and he and Papa started shouting at each other,” he said, frowning at the memory.

  “Mr. Billows?” I said, my neurons twitching.

  “No, it was some other guy. Papa and I were outside fixing the fence when this guy showed up. Papa made me walk away, but I could hear them screaming back and forth. Then the guy told Papa to watch out and then he left. It scared the heck out of me.”

  “Do you know what they were arguing about?”

  “Not really,” Cooter said. “But the guy kept yelling and swearing at Papa saying stay away from the cape, stay away from the cape. It didn’t make any sense to me since he has wasn’t wearing a cape, but it sure seemed important to him.”

  I flinched, and Cooter recoiled backward in the bed, startled.

  “Are you okay, Suzy?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, my neurons on fire. “It’s just a bit of a
headache. Did your dad tell you what the fight was about?”

  “Nah, Papa never talked about stuff like that. He told me not to worry about it and went back to work fixing the fence.”

  “What did the man look like?”

  “He was really big. And his head was shaved. He looked funny because the cold air was making steam come off the top of his head. And he had this really big droopy mustache that had snow and ice all over it.”

  “You didn’t hear his name, did you?”

  “No, just a lot of yelling and swearing,” Cooter said, reaching for a comic book.

  He slowly opened the cover and was soon engrossed.

  “Okay, Cooter,” I said, heading toward the door. “I need to get going. It was nice seeing you. And try not to worry. I’m sure this will all quiet down soon.”

  “Thanks for talking to me,” he said, glancing up from the comic book.

  “No problem. I enjoyed it.”

  “And thanks for your help in the cave with the policeman.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I said, holding his eyes with mine. “To anybody.”

  Chapter 25

  We made our way back to Rooster’s truck just before dark. Chef Claire, who ended up walking and carrying her skis after falling down three times in the first five minutes, climbed into the backseat and passed out, snoring softly.

  “Can you live with it?” I said to Rooster who was staring out at the road.

  “You mean, the alternate truth?” he said, glancing over.

  “That’s a good term for it,” I said. “And there is a lot of truth in there.”

  “There is,” he said, nodding. “And the kid did try to do the right thing. Eventually.”

  “Just not fast enough,” I said. “I guess he’ll have plenty of time to think about what he did and didn’t do while he’s living out there all by himself.”

  “Yeah, when you think about it, he is sort of in prison,” Rooster said, choosing his words carefully. “You know, from an isolation standpoint.”

  “Except he’s going to have several dogs to keep him company,” I said. “I don’t think you get that in prison.”

  “Hey, try not to nitpick,” he said, laughing. “I’m trying to help us out here.”